


The Fundamentals of Chemistry

by 1VulgarWoman



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: College Professors AU, Goku ships it, Human AU, Slow Burn, Smut and Fluff, Vegebul, smutfest, tpth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-25 19:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1VulgarWoman/pseuds/1VulgarWoman
Summary: Bulma butts heads with her new colleague at Capsule University, but she soon learns there’s more to the reclusive Dr. Prince than meets the eye. (OR, I needed nerdy professor!Vegeta in my life.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, friends! This story was written for TPTH Smutfest 2019. The chapters are pretty short so I can post every day. I hope you enjoy sexy nerd Veggie as much as I enjoy writing him. 😏

1 ~ Gooseflesh Skin

 

There are few things Bulma loves more than the first day of a new semester.

The crisp air and changing colors promise an early fall. Energy is high as students and professors bustle around the Capsule University campus, ready and eager to embark on their journeys of discovery and innovation.

Bulma smiles to herself and breathes it all in through the open top of her convertible. She has that ‘high on life’ feeling she usually only gets from a groundbreaking new discovery. Or a promising new relationship, though those have certainly been few and far between lately.

A sigh escaped her as she recalled her disastrous breakup with Yamcha over the summer. Ending things on the first day of a Caribbean cruise wasn’t one of her more inspired ideas. There were only so many places to hide where alcohol was readily available. Needless to say, it had been an awkward week.

But that was in the past now. It was a new semester with a fresh crop of young inventors eager for her to nurture their small saplings of inspiration into towering oaks. And, who knew, maybe this was the year she would finally stumble upon her Nobel Prize-winning idea. The possibilities were endless, and she was determined to remain positive and optimistic. New year: new Bulma.

As she slowed to pull into her usual spot in front of the science building, a flash of shiny black jolted her from her reverie. She glared bullets at the sedan currently occupying the parking spot everyone in the faculty knows is, unofficially, hers. Her father’s name is on the front of the building, after all. That had to grant her at least some privileges.

The driver’s door opened, and a short, dark-haired guy she’d never seen before emerged, brief case in hand. He wore rectangular wire-framed glasses and the ugliest white and tan sweater-vest imaginable, but there was no missing the way his biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt. That vest might be hideous, but the way he filled it out certainly was not.

“Hey, asshole!” she called to his retreating back, feeling her face heat up from the combined affect of her anger and his tight backside in navy slacks. “You’re in my spot.”

The stranger turned just enough to face her general direction without looking directly at her.

“I see no signs saying the spots are assigned.”

Bulma found herself rendered momentarily speechless as the sound of his voice washed over her. It was deep and gravely with a rough edge that that made the hairs on her arms stand on end in the best possible way. She scrubbed at the gooseflesh that had traitorously started to form as she leveled her most withering ‘Bulma Briefs’ glare at him.

“Well, clearly you’re new around here, so let me clue you in. That is MY parking spot. Always has been.”

The stranger, still refusing to look her in the eye, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a long, thick finger.

“I don’t have time for this,” he growled. “I have work to do.”

And, with that, he turned and shuffled toward the building’s entrance, broad shoulders slightly hunched.

A wave of fury washed over Bulma. Snapping her car into park, she rose to her knees on the leather seat, leaning over the passenger door to yell at his retreating back.

“You get back here and move your hideous grandma car out of my spot NOW!”

The only reply was the screech of rusty hinges as he wrenched the door open and disappeared inside.

Still fuming, Bulma turned to find herself another parking spot while silently wondering if she could come up with a legitimate excuse to have his car towed. Unlikely.

She was met with the wide-eyed stares of Dr. Oolong and Dean Roshi, who had apparently stopped to gape at the parking lot show-down.

“What the hell are you two bozos looking at?!”

The two men scrambled around her car and into the building like the devil herself was after them.

Bulma sighed. So much for her new leaf.

~ 0 ~

By the end of her first lecture, Bulma’s blood pressure had gone back down to normal. Intro to Physics was one of her favorite classes to teach. All those bright-eyed freshmen who still actually liked science made her feel young again. Which, of course, she still was.

As she packed up her briefcase, Bulma tucked a few forgotten ‘Advanced Mineralogy’ syllabuses into a notebook filled with indecipherable chicken scratch and tucked it under her arm. She would have to stop by Dr. Son’s office to return it before heading to her next class.

‘The Absent-Minded Professor,’ as her childhood friend, Goku, was affectionately nicknamed by his colleagues, was notorious for leaving things behind in every auditorium he taught in. At least she would have a good excuse to see him a few times a week, since she had the time-slot right after him.

As she stepped into the doorway of Goku’s office, the man himself darted out, nearly bowling her over.

“Oh, Jeez! Sorry, Bulma. I didn’t see you there.”

Goku scratched the back of his neck and smiled that goofy grin of his. She loved him dearly, but the fact that he had managed to earn a Ph.D. was still incredible to her.

“No worries,” she said, holding out the notebook. “I was just stopping by to give you this.”

Goku took it with a self-depreciating chuckle.

“Thanks, Bulma. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.”

“Maybe that’s why you like rocks so much. Because you actually have a giant one inside your scull.” She reached up to tap her knuckles against his forehead.

Goku laughed again and leaned against the doorframe.

“Probably. Say, have you met the new guy yet?”

“What new guy?”

“The chemistry guy they replaced Raditz with. He seems cool. I think he might be into martial arts, too.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. Somehow or other, every conversation with Goku eventually came around to fighting.

Before she could answer, Goku’s eyes darted to something over her shoulder, and his grin widened.

“Vegeta! Hey, Vegeta, come over here!”

Bulma glanced over her shoulder and locked eyes with that space-stealing asshole who had ruined her perfect morning.

He looked away quickly, obviously searching for a viable escape route before stomping up to them with a scowl.

Goku, true to form, was completely oblivious to the tension in both his companions. He clapped Vegeta on the shoulder, and Bulma suppressed the urge to laugh when the shorter man visibly cringed.

“Vegeta, this is my good friend, Bulma. Bulma, this is…”

“Dr. Prince,” Vegeta cut Goku off with a growl.

“Dr. Briefs,” Bulma replied saucily, offering him her hand.

Vegeta scowled at it like it was covered in dirt before grasping it in his large, rough one. Bulma had barely registered how warm his skin felt against hers before he tossed her hand away like it had bitten him. He shoved both hands into his pockets.

“Briefs, as in ‘Briefs Hall?’” The dark eyes beneath his wire frames were narrowed.

“Named for my father,” she answered proudly, daring him with her eyes to have a problem with that.

Vegeta huffed.

“Explains why you think you own the place.”

Bulma’s eyes went wide; her face flushed.

Before she could give Vegeta yet another piece of her mind, Goku spoke up.

“Wait, you two already met?”

Vegeta huffed again.

“The princess of CCU here seems to think all the parking spots are hers.”

Bulma saw red.

Goku smiled, and Vegeta flinched out of the way just in time to avoid being touched again.

“Oh, the spot right out front is Bulma’s. Everyone knows that.”

Bulma chuckled inwardly as Vegeta’s ears went red.

Without a word of goodbye, he turned and stalked off down the hallway, shoulders hunched.

Bulma could have sworn she heard him mutter the word ‘imbeciles’under his breath.

 

 

 

A/N: Check out the other Smutfest entries on TPTH [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/tpth/) or [discord](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%253A%252F%252Fdiscord.gg%252F6vbHx3k&t=ZGU5Yzc1ZjQzMjExMmU1MzA5ZjExMzE1NjFlYWU2OTdkOWMxNjc5OCxlMjFkZjA0NjQ3YjQwMTI4N2FmNDQ1YmIwZjRjNDg1YTljOTQ4ZDAy).

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutfest day 2! Woop! 
> 
> I forgot to mention last time that I am not, nor have ever been, a college professor. Any knowledge I have on the inner workings of a university is limited to when I attended as a student a decade ago. So please excuse any mistakes. I’m also not a scientist, so go easy on me there, too. 
> 
> There are a couple very mild warnings for this chapter. If you are triggered by descriptions of social anxiety symptoms, be aware. Also, something happens toward the end that could, if you squint just right, be kind of seen as something non-consensual a little bit. Sort of. I don’t really know, so here’s a warning just in case. 
> 
> Enjoy!

2 ~ Quaking Body

Vegeta’s office was small, but tidy.

There was only a tiny slit of a window, but the dim light from his desk lamp cast a warm, ambient glow. He’d filled the built-in bookcases with his personal library and journal after journal of research notes he supposed he should probably digitize at some point. His desk was bare save for the lamp and a stone-age computer monitor provided by the university.

Though it was technically his first day of work, he had spent every day of the past week here settling into his new workspace. Already, the tiny, dim room felt like a safe haven.

Vegeta closed his office door and leaned against it. He snatched his glasses off with one hand and scrubbed the other over his face. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on his brow and upper lip. For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, he counted backwards from ten to slow his racing heart.

God, could he ever have a social interaction that didn’t end in disaster? His colleague, the geologist, was nicer and more welcoming to him than anyone he could ever recall meeting. So naturally, he had to shut that down by being a dick. And then there was the woman. Bulma.

Vegeta nearly gouged his eye out trying to put his glasses back on. He was shaking. Fantastic.

He poured his quaking body into his desk chair, and leaned back against the headrest, letting his eyes drift closed.

Visions of cropped blue hair and cherry-red lips swam behind his lids.

Bulma Briefs was clearly used to getting her way. She was spoiled, entitled, and loud. The kind of woman who would yell at a total stranger for parking in her preferred spot. The kind of woman who would probably hold a grudge about that.

Wasn’t it just his luck she also happened to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Vegeta glanced at his watch and groaned. It wasn’t even noon yet, and he was already dying to pop a Xanax (or three) and go to bed. Instead, he needed to pull himself together in time to teach his next class, which started in less than ten minutes.

Resigned, he pulled his brief case over and double checked his notes and course materials. At least he had his Fundamentals class next. He could wax eloquent about the wonders of chemistry and forget this whole unfortunate morning ever happened.

With a quick glance at his underarms to make sure he hadn’t perspired through his shirt, he ventured out of the safe haven of his office and made his way to the lecture hall.

~ 0 ~

The next couple weeks were spent avoiding ‘that woman’ at all costs.

Well, that golden retriever of a geologist too, but he was much less successful there. The bed-haired buffoon seemed to be lying in wait around every corner, always ready to ambush him. At least his avoidance of the woman seemed to be mutual.

Vegeta hand’t been surprised when, two days after the parking lot incident, a metal sign reading ‘Reserved for Dr. Bulma Briefs’ appeared in front of the infamous parking spot. He’d even chuckled to himself a little, feeling a grudging respect for the stubborn woman claw its way through his defenses.

Unfortunately, avoiding Bulma Briefs wasn’t easy, even with her tacit assistance. She lectured in Auditorium D right after him three days a week, and their lab times overlapped on the other two days. Not to mention her office was right next door to his.

Of course Bulma Briefs had the corner office. He’d never been inside, but she was entirely too careless about leaving the door open when she wasn’t there. It was a nice office with shining mahogany built-ins and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of the Quad. And it was a total disaster.

The desk was littered with loose papers and discarded writing utensils. Books were stacked on the floor instead of lined up neatly in the bookcases, which sported a layer of dust he could see from the hallway. Scattered around on various surfaces, including the floor, were multiple derelict computers and other electronics in varying stages of disrepair, as well as a multitude of tools. The trash can overflowed with soda cans and potato chip bags.

Just a glance at this mess was enough to make Vegeta’s palms sweat. He tried to avoid seeing it whenever he walked past, and that’s how, after almost two weeks of successfully avoiding the woman, he ran right into her.

Soft. That was the first sensation his mind registered as her ample chest collided with his. The scent of her perfume hit him next. It was warm and spicy; none of those cloyingly sweet florals that burned his nose. It made him want to burry his face against her neck and inhale.

The next new sensation originated somewhere around the lap of his khakis. Hot. Uncomfortably so. Burning, actually.

He glanced down to see a deep brown coffee stain spreading from the hem of his vest down his pants leg.

“Shit! Watch where you’re going, you big oaf! You made me spill my coffee!”

Vegeta felt his cheeks heat up.

“Me?! Wha —“

His retort was cut short when he realized she’d gotten coffee on her own clothes too. Specifically her white blouse, through which he could see the lacy outline of a pale pink bra.

His cock gave an involuntary twitch inside his sodden pants.

Of course she picked that exact moment to look down. Vegeta shoved his hand into his pocket and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that she wouldn’t notice the effect she had on him.

The furious set of her rosebud mouth softened as she glanced over his stained pants, hopefully assuming the pained look on his face was from the scorching-hot coffee.

“Ooh, that’s going to stain. Here…”

She crouched down at his feet, reaching inside the fast food bag she’d dropped in their collision to produce a wad of napkins. Before Vegeta could recover from the sight of her kneeling in front of him, she was dabbing at the stain over his thigh and…higher.

Hindsight being twenty-twenty, he would later berate himself for failing to stop her. For being frozen to the spot, stuttering like an idiot, instead of sprinting in the opposite direction.

But her fingers were dabbing over the sensitive hollow inside his hip bone, and his eyes were fastened to the spot where her damp blouse floated away from milky-white cleavage. And her hands were on him. Her tiny, perfect hands. So close. So close to the place that knew only his own touch and ached for hers.

Then those eyes — those wide, round eyes — looked up at him, sealing his doom.

“V-Vegeta?”

It was the most erotic thing that ever happened to him. Also, the most mortifying.

He squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his lower lip in a vain attempt to stifle a helpless groan, as he lost all control. The brief wave of pleasure was followed so closely by panic and urgent nausea, his knees nearly buckled.

“Oh, shit,” Bulma whispered, still kneeling but, thankfully, no longer touching him. “Did you just…”

“Shut up.”

The last thing he saw was the little shocked ‘O’ her perfect lips made before he darted past her and made a beeline for the exit.

 

  
A/N: Poor Veggie! My poor socially awkward virgin baby. 😭 I promise, I’ll make it up to him!

Check out the rest of the Smutfest stories on The Prince and the Heiress [discord](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%253A%252F%252Fdiscord.gg%252F6vbHx3k&t=ZGU5Yzc1ZjQzMjExMmU1MzA5ZjExMzE1NjFlYWU2OTdkOWMxNjc5OCxlMjFkZjA0NjQ3YjQwMTI4N2FmNDQ1YmIwZjRjNDg1YTljOTQ4ZDAy) channel. 

Adorable fan art for this chapter by Vegebul_Soup.


	3. Chapter 3

3 ~ Musky Scent

Bulma was awake early for a Saturday. Or more accurately, she still hadn’t been able to fall asleep.

Guilt churned in her gut as she tossed and turned for hours, unable to banish the image of Vegeta’s humiliated expression from her mind.

She really hadn’t been paying attention when she ran into him, and, despite her harsh words, had felt bad for ruining his pants. That was all. She had never intended to assault him, or whatever it was she had ended up doing. Still, she felt dirty and wrong, and she could only imagine how Vegeta must feel.

His reaction cast a whole new light on what she had observed of him so far. She was convinced he must be a virgin, or at the very least, inexperienced. It would explain his perpetual grouchiness and uptight demeanor. Among other things.

It made sense, but it was still difficult to get her head around. She could tell there was a decent body hiding beneath all those ugly sweater-vests and corduroy blazers. Even with its ever-present scowl, his face wasn’t objectionable, by any means. She knew plenty of far less attractive and intelligent men who got laid all the time.

Yes, Bulma decided, he was fuckable enough, even by her high standards. There must be some other explanation for his inexperience, if her theory was correct. And when it came to men and science, her theories usually were.

Bulma threw her Egyptian cotton sheets back with a groan.

It was no use. There was no way she was going to get any sleep with all this nervous, guilty energy coursing through her veins.

She reached for her smart phone and googled the class schedule for the on-campus gym. Maybe a little morning yoga would help her get her thoughts under control so she could catch a few hours of sleep.

Bulma had scarcely set foot inside the gym when she saw him.

Frozen in place, she blinked several times, wondering if she’d thought about him so much during her sleepless night that she was starting to hallucinate.

It was clearly Vegeta, but it was hard to reconcile the confident, sexy man hanging from the pull-up bar with her awkward (potential virgin) coworker.

He was shirtless, dressed in only a pair of loose gym shorts that hung low on his narrow hips. Bulma watched a trickle of sweat make its way through the maze of tight abs to disappear beneath his waistband and hoped she wasn’t standing in a puddle of her own drool.

 _Holy_ _shit_ , he was ripped. Like, goes to the gym twice a day, eats nothing but chicken and steamed broccoli kind of ripped. The kind of ripped you only saw on movie stars and comic book superheroes, never chemistry professors.

She’d expected what he had under his nerdy science teacher gear was nice, but even her vivid imagination had fallen short.

Bulma hadn’t yet figured out how to close her mouth when Vegeta dropped down from the bar.

She wasn’t directly in front of him, but of course he noticed her. The weight of her stare must have been palpable.

His dark eyes held hers for only a moment before darting away. Even halfway across the gym, she could see his cheeks darken. He looked so pained, so lost. For all his surliness, even downright rudeness at times, she couldn’t bare to see him suffer.

Before she could decide what to do, Vegeta turned and strode away, disappearing into the hallway that led to the locker rooms.

“Shit,” Bulma murmured under her breath as she forced her heavy limbs to move.

She caught up to him before he could disappear into the men’s locker room. Her rapid footfalls echoed in the empty hallway.

“Vegeta, wait!”

No response.

“Please!”

Vegeta said nothing, but he stopped walking. His massive shoulders tensed as he studied the vinyl flooring.

Bulma jogged the rest of the way, feeling breathless for reasons that had nothing to do with exertion.

“Come to humiliate me some more, woman?” Vegeta growled under his breath as she stood panting beside him.

“What?” she gasped. “No, of course not. I wanted to apologize.”

His eyes met hers briefly. They were wide, surprised.

Bulma wanted to reach out to him, but since it was her uninvited touch that had gotten them into this mess, she thought better of it.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she continued. “It was all my fault. I should never have touched you without permission , and I…I feel terrible.”

Vegeta glanced at her again, holding her gaze for a second longer this time. She noticed that he wasn’t wearing his glasses and that the dark eyes that usually held disdain, shrewdness, or pride merely looked sad. For the first time, she felt like maybe she understood him. He looked as lonely as she felt.

“I’m sorry too, if you were….uncomfortable.”

She smiled at his gracious apology, however unnecessary or unexpected.

“You didn’t have to apologize to me, but thank you. I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

Vegeta nodded, turning to face her. The musky scent of sweat and testosterone and strong, virile _man_ wafted over her, settling somewhere deep in her lower abdomen.

“I was sort of flattered, actually.”

Bulma cringed as the thought slipped past her filter. Thankfully, Vegeta didn’t look angry, just incredulous.

“Anyway,” she backpedaled, dazzling him with her brightest smile, “let me know if there’s anything I can ever do to make it up to you.”

Vegeta paused for a beat. When he spoke, his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it.

“Just…never mention it again.” It was as close to a plea as she suspected his pride would allow.

“You’ve got it.”

Vegeta nodded, and his chest and shoulders heaved as he drew in a deep breath. Bulma found herself struggling to keep her eyes from lingering in places they shouldn’t. Like on the perfect line of dark hair that disappeared into his shorts.

She held out her hand. “So…friends?”

Vegeta glanced down at her hand, and, just for a moment, she thought she saw something dark flicker over his face. But it was gone before she had a chance to study it.

“Friends,” he echoed, shaking her hand quickly before disappearing into the locker room.

An hour later, a much more centered Bulma lay on her mat in shavasana, meditating on a set of washboard abs and the most expressive dark eyes she’d ever seen.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Goku ships it too hard and almost breaks Vegeta.

4 ~ Breath on Neck 

Vegeta had never had many friends, and he was mostly content with that status. 

Friends were people who made you to do uncomfortable things like talk about your feelings and go out on weekends. Vegeta’s tolerance for social interaction was usually spent by the end of the workday, so friendships had never been something he saw himself having the time or emotional fortitude to sustain. 

And now he had two. 

His coffee cup rattled against the saucer as he gripped it with shaking hands. That clown of a geologist had been prattling on about aikido for half an hour now with no possible end in sight.

Goku hadn’t left Vegeta alone since he found out they shared a passion for martial arts (though Vegeta was more of a muay thai guy himself). But the prospect of having another black belt to spar with was an exciting one, even if it meant tolerating the occasional social interaction. 

That was how the two of them ended up having coffee between classes one day. Vegeta was certain he had actually refused the clown’s invitation, yet here they sat. 

Goku’s irritating voice faded into the background as Bulma entered the coffee shop, drawing Vegeta’s gaze like a moth to a bug zapper. 

She was wearing a red dress that skirted the line between professional and seductive with nude pumps that made her legs look miles long. The sunlight from the open doorway framed her like a halo. He knew he was staring, but his eyes refused to be torn away. 

When she spotted him, she smiled. Damn her. He was already blushing, and they hadn’t even spoken yet. 

“Hey, friends!” She raised the hand not clutching an armful of papers and waved at them. 

“Hey, Bulma!” Goku waved back. 

Vegeta looked down at his cappuccino. 

Friends. 

He sighed, then chastised himself for feeling dejected. The ‘friend zone’ wasn’t a fun place to be, but it was for the best. He wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like Bulma even if he had a snowflake’s chance in hell.   
But he had already blown his chances with her. Literally. 

Since that ill-fated day, he’d gotten to know her better, and the more he learned the more his respect and admiration for her grew. They’d talked. She’d grilled him on every possible aspect of his life, most of which he wasn’t comfortable sharing yet. It was easier to talk about her. And, damn, could that woman talk. 

He found himself more than willing to listen to her, though. She was so expressive and passionate, especially when he got her talking about her inventions, that he often had to remind himself not to stare like a besotted idiot. 

Bulma Briefs was beautiful, yes. But that brilliant mind of hers…Now, that was fucking gorgeous. 

The warm, spicy aroma of her perfume hit him just before her arm-full of papers plunked down onto the table. 

“Hey, guys,” she breathed as she dropped into the chair between them. “I can only stay a few minutes. I’m meeting with the grant committee in an hour, plus I have all these tests to grade.”

Goku grimaced at the unruly stack of paper. 

“Jeez, Bulma. I don’t know why you don’t have your students test in the computer lab like everyone else.”

Bulma shrugged.“I don’t like giving tests that are all multiple choice. It’s just lazy.”

Goku laughed dismissively. “Bulma, nobody gives paper tests anymore.”

“I still give paper tests,” Vegeta grumbled under his breath. 

“See! Vegeta gets it.”

Bulma’s smile was triumphant. It almost made engaging in this ridiculous conversation worthwhile. 

“Anyways, what’s the grant committee meeting about?” Goku asked. 

“Oh, just a little something I hope will revolutionize the fitness industry. And there are probably much more groundbreaking applications too, later down the line.”

Vegeta’s brow arched over the rim of his glasses. When Bulma acted all coy like this, she usually had something good up her sleeve. He was intrigued. 

“By the way,” she continued, bouncing enthusiastically in her seat, “I’ll need a big, strong guy to help me test it soon. You guys know anyone who might be interested?” 

Goku was the first to speak up. 

“I’m sure Vegeta would love to help you out. Isn’t that right, Vegeta?” 

Goku winked suggestively, and Vegeta had to fight twin urges to hide under the table and dive over it to reach Goku’s face with his fist. 

Vegeta had no idea how the clown knew anything about his attraction to Bulma. He had certainly never spoken about it, nor did he ever intend to. 

Had the woman…? No. Surely she hadn’t told Goku about his humiliating loss of control. She had promised never to mention it again, but perhaps he should have been more specific in his request. 

The leaden weight of betrayal settled like a brick in the pit of his stomach. Was the woman laughing at him with her idiot friend behind his back? Or worse, was this sham of a friendship born out of pity? Either thought was unbearable. 

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Bulma glanced at her watch before shuffling her papers into some semblance of order. 

“Time’s up. Gotta go.” 

She pushed her chair back with a screech. 

“See ya, Goku.”

She gave her friend a one-armed hug. 

“See, ya, Bulma. Good luck with your meeting!”

Before Vegeta could protest, it was his turn for her traditional parting gesture. She had asked once if she could hug him and had taken the liberty of doing so as she pleased ever since. 

Not that he usually minded, now that he made sure he was always prepared. 

He was painfully aware that his callused hands would never feel as satisfying as her delicate, soft ones would, but it would have to do. 

“See ya later, Vegeta.”

He froze in place as her warm breath brushed the bare sliver of neck above his collar. Her soft breasts pressed against his upper back for only a split second before she released him. He couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved: a common conundrum these days. 

“Ooh, can I have a sip of this? Thanks!”

One neatly manicured hand reached for Vegeta’s coffee cup before he could protest. There was only a sip or two left when she replaced it, but he hardly noticed. His eyes were captured by the shiny, pink imprint her lips had left on the rim. 

“Okay, bye, you guys!” 

Goku waved one more time, and the two men were left alone again. 

Fortunately for Vegeta, his companion had to leave for office hours before he could pick up on Vegeta’s preoccupation. 

He answered Goku’s cheerful goodbye with an annoyed grunt, but that was normal for him. 

Alone, Vegeta continued to stare dejectedly at his coffee cup. Or more specifically, at the outline of Bulma’s plump lower lip on the rim. He wanted to be angry with the woman. He wanted to be furious. But all he could feel was disappointment and humiliation. 

And something else —something throbbing in the center of his chest — that was foreign and unnameable. 

Vegeta stood to leave, but turned back, reaching for his coffee cup. The last sip was cold, but his lower lip tingled where he carefully placed it over the imprint of Bulma’s. He imagined he could make out the sweet, feminine taste of her mouth beneath the bitter tang of the coffee. 

The cup was still rattling in its saucer when he stormed out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

5 ~ Hot and Sweaty

Vegeta’s gym bag thudded onto the carpet as he dropped it without caring where it landed.

He sank into his chair and covered his face with his hands, smudging his glasses. Never in his life had he been closer to believing there was a god, one who clearly enjoyed torturing him. What else could possibly explain the series of catastrophes that has befallen him in the months since he came to CCU?

It had been one hell of a day. Between finding out Bulma had told the geologist about his embarrassing weakness and arriving home to find his rented duplex engulfed in flames, he was beginning to believe he was cursed.

He’d gone out for a late run to clear his head so he could sleep and returned an hour later to find he no longer had a bed to sleep in. There was nothing left. He had stood there, hot and sweaty from his run, as the firemen explained that his neighbor had gone off and left the stove on. Apparently, he was lucky to be alive.

“Tch,” he grunted to himself as he took stock of his so-called life.

His car had, thankfully, been parked far enough away to survive unscathed. The clothes he’d worn that day were crumpled in the bottom of his gym bag. Other than that, his wardrobe now consisted of a pair of sweaty track pants and the extra shirt he keeps in his desk for emergencies.

Insurance would cover his losses, but that didn’t solve the problem of where he would sleep tonight. His wallet had been in its usual place on the kitchen counter and was nothing more than a pile of ashes now. That left him to choose between his car and his office.

He’d chosen the office. At least this way he could get some work done if he wasn’t able to sleep.

Vegeta rummaged in his bag to find his dirty undershirt, which he pulled on with a sigh. He briefly considered booting up his computer to catch up on emails, but he was weary to the core.

He had almost come to terms with the idea of sleeping at his desk when he remembered Bulma had a full-sized sofa in her office.

Vegeta groaned. The idea of trying to relax among her clutter and the lingering scent of her perfume was nearly enough to keep him where he was, but, in the end, exhaustion won out.

Bulma never locked her office. He had chastised her for her carelessness on several occasions. Now he was grateful for it.

Careful not to look at his untidy surroundings, he slipped inside the dark office and sank into the plush leather of the sofa. Within seconds, he was asleep.

~ 0 ~

“Vegeta?”

He was dreaming.

Bulma hovered over him, her beautiful face framed by a halo of cerulean curls. Her ample cleavage spilled out over the top of her white tank top, threatening to render the garment completely useless. He would rip it off of her, he decided. If dreams were all he would ever have, he was going to make the most of them.

“Vegeta, what are you doing here?”

Reality crashed over him like a bucket of ice water.

Vegeta bolted upright so quickly the woman had to jump back to avoid being bowled over. He felt like he should apologize, but his brain and his mouth refused to collaborate.

“Woman! What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my phone,” she said, arms crossed over her mostly bare chest. He wished she would button her cardigan so he could think straight. “Why were you sleeping in my office?”

Vegeta sighed, running his hands nervously through his hair. It was still dark out. He figured he could only have been asleep for minutes. An hour tops.

“What time is it?” he asked, his ears going hot.

Bulma darted behind her desk, stooping to glance underneath where her charger was plugged in to the wall.

“Aha!”

She stood, brandishing her smartphone like a trophy.

“It’s 12:45. And I’m still waiting for you to answer my question.”

Vegeta crossed his arms, sleep deprivation combined with his hurt feelings from earlier making him even gruffer than usual.

“My fucking apartment burned down, okay? It’s none of your goddamn business.”

He made a move for the door, but her nearly-bare tits blocked the way.

“Wait, what?! Your apartment burned down? Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight,” he grumbled. “Now, if you don’t have any more ridiculous questions for me, I’m going to sleep in my car.”

He tried to step around her, but she stopped him with a gentle touch on his wrist.

“Wait! Why don’t you just come home with me?”

Vegeta’s brain shorted out.

“Wha-what?”

“I have a perfectly good spare bedroom you can use.” Her cheeks dimpled as her excitement grew. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can have coffee together before work tomorrow. I’ll make breakfast. Well…I’ll try to, anyway.”

Vegeta shook his head.

“No.”

Bulma’s smile faded.

“Why not? You’re my friend, Vegeta. I can’t let you sleep in your car.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides as all the hurt feelings he’d been suppressing since that afternoon boiled to the surface.

“Oh, so you can’t let me sleep in my car, but you could tell Rocks-For-Brains about my…about the…ugh!”

He growled in frustration as words failed him, but it was clear from the expression on the woman’s face that she understood. She was gaping at him, eyes wide.

“I didn’t tell Goku, or anyone else, about that. I swear.”

Vegeta was silent as he processed her words. Though he had known Bulma for only a few months, he was certain she wasn’t the type to lie to his face. He was inclined to believe her, but that still didn’t explain the clown’s strange behavior.

Goku was always strange, though. Perhaps he was reading too much into it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

As he silently ruminated on the situation, Bulma had, unbeknownst to him, worked herself into a near panic. So, when a tiny, warm hand wrapped around his forearm, he failed to suppress the urge to pull away. The sight of her blue eyes welling with tears sucked the breath from his lungs.

“Please, Vegeta, you have to believe me. I would never betray you like that. Never.”

He watched, horrified, as the tears spilled over and trickled down her cheeks.

Panic seized him as he realized this was all his fault. He was utterly clueless when it came to this stuff, and now he had made her cry.

“Well, are you just going to stand there like a mute idiot? Either say you believe me or tell me to fuck off already!”

“I believe you,” he answered immediately.

The relief he felt when she smiled at him was almost staggering.

Bulma laughed softly to herself as she wiped her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Good. Now, get over here and hug me, you big dolt.”

Vegeta let out an unsteady breath. He took a tentative step towards her, and Bulma closed the remaining distance between them.

He had expected one of her usual chaste side hugs, so the warm press of her chest against his made him freeze with his arms in mid-air. Her arms were wrapped around his neck like the softest of vices, and her hair smelled more incredible than anything he’d ever experienced.

_Hug_ _her_ _back_ , _you_ _imbecile_! His mind was screaming at him to do something, to not completely botch things, for once in his life.

Her arms began to loosen around his neck, but Vegeta only allowed her to put the tiniest of spaces between them before his arms came around her slim torso.

Bulma’s gasp was warm against his neck. She returned his embrace with even more pressure than before, and Vegeta was awestruck by how perfectly she fit in his arms, like she was made to be there. He only had to turn his head a little to bury his nose in her curls, breathing her in. He never wanted to let her go, but she would soon be able to feel just how aroused he was by what was, for her, a simple hug between friends.

“Vegeta?”

The sound of his name whispered breathily against his ear was the final straw. No matter how little he wanted to, he pulled firmly away, letting his hands linger at her waist for only a moment before shoving them into his pockets.

Bulma’s hands slid down his chest with torturous slowness before she regained her balance. For several seconds she wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he feared she would start crying again. But then she shook her head, as if to clear it, before giving him a sunny smile.

Vegeta was certain he would never understand the enigma that was the female species, even if he lived to be a hundred.

“Come on. Let’s go to my place. You look like you could use a good night’s rest.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Vegeta nodded, following obediently as she turned to leave.

“Oh, and…” she turned back and poked him in the chest with her index finger, “somebody smells like he could use a shower.”

Bulma laughed at his indignant sputtering as she stepped into the dark hallway.

“Tch. Impossible woman,” Vegeta muttered under his breath.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

6 ~ Use Your Teeth

Sweat dripped onto the cold metal floor as Vegeta finished his last set of push-ups.

He forced his heavy body upright and trudged over to the control panel to power down the machine. For a moment, he felt weightless as the gravity returned to normal.

If he hadn’t known Bulma Briefs was a certified genius before, he was well aware of it now. When she’d asked him to help test her new gravity simulator, he’d been skeptical. Two months later, he had cut his training time in half but had more than doubled the effectiveness of his workouts. She was going to make gyms obsolete.

After showering, Vegeta made a pot of coffee and settled down at the massive kitchen island with his laptop. He had several email notifications from real estate websites advertising new listings in his price point, which he reluctantly scrolled through.

His insurance payout from the fire was enough for a down payment on a condo or small house, especially since Bulma had bought him a whole new wardrobe she wouldn’t let him pay her back for. He had also been living rent-free in her sprawling mansion for the past two months. Even his groceries seemed to appear out of nowhere.

He’d tried to pay her back on multiple occasions, but she never deposited his checks. He had confronted her about it once, and she’d just shrugged and turned the page of her magazine.

“What’s the point of having this giant house if I can’t help out a friend?” she’d said. “Plus, you’re helping me test the gravity simulator, I sleep better with a big, strong guy in the house, and you’re a compulsive cleaner. You’re basically a dream roommate.”

He’d scoffed at her words and shot back, “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re pathetically weak and you leave shit everywhere, so what does that make you?”

She’d thrown her magazine at him.

Vegeta had to admit, he was dragging his feet about finding a place, and not just because of the free rent.

He would miss living with Bulma. The way she sighed at that first sip of coffee in the morning. The sound of her laughter when they watched late-night talk shows together. He would even miss her bitching at him for the stupidest things. He’d miss her.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the woman herself sauntered into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from her half-open eyes.

Vegeta’s eyes, however, were wide open.

“Woman, don’t you own any clothes?!”

It was a rhetorical question, of course. He had seen her small department store of a closet. But somehow, she always seemed to be wearing some form of glorified underwear.

Today it was a silky pink camisole with lace trim. The matching bottoms looked like shorts that were at least five sizes too small.

She waved his comment off with one hand and poured her coffee with the other.

“It’s my house, Vegeta. I can wear whatever I want.”

“Tch.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which he had chosen to leave bare after his shower for…reasons.

Reasons that definitely had nothing to do with Bulma calling him a ‘big, strong guy’ again.

He slouched against the back of his chair, hoping the laptop screen would hide his blush and the countertop would hide his hard-on. It was a typical Saturday morning at the Briefs’ mansion.

Later that afternoon, they were expecting Goku and his wife and son for lunch. Vegeta was waiting patiently in the living room when Bulma suddenly appeared.

It was even worse than earlier that morning. She must truly be trying to kill him, he thought as he averted his eyes to the carpet. The blank TV screen. Her hideous modern artwork. Anywhere but on the lacy red bra she was unashamedly flaunting beneath her open blouse.

“Hey, Vegeta, can you break this price tag off for me? I can’t find my scissors.”

He braved a glance from the corner of his eye to see her holding a little white tag that was attached to the collar of her blouse.

“Just use your teeth.”

Bulma let out a little exasperated huff before stomping back into her bedroom.

A couple hours later, Vegeta and Goku circled each other on the lawn while the women and child watched from the patio.

“So, how’s it going with you and Bulma?”

Vegeta lunged, and his grinning opponent side-stepped gracefully.

“What are you talking about?”

Goku wiggled his eyebrows before dodging Vegeta’s kick.

“You two have been living together for a couple months now. I just figured…”

Vegeta attacked with a series of jabs.

“Well, you figured wrong.”

Damn it, the clown was fast. Vegeta couldn’t seem to land a hit.

“I can tell you like her.” Goku ducked under another kick before parrying with one of his own. “And she likes you too. So what’s the hold-up?”

Vegeta saw an opening, but his opponent’s words brought him up short.

“She…what?”

Goku took advantage of Vegeta’s distraction, but he was able to block just in time.

“I can tell Bulma likes you. I’ve known her since we were kids.”

They grappled fiercely for a moment before Vegeta shook free.

“You…you really think she might…?”

“Uh-huh.”

Goku nodded, then lashed out with a series of rapid jabs that overwhelmed Vegeta’s suddenly cloudy mind. In the blink of an eye, Goku had him on the ground in a choke hold that had Vegeta seeing stars.

“Listen.” As if Vegeta could do anything else. “Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. Ask her out to dinner.”

Vegeta sputtered as Goku suddenly released him. The grass felt cool beneath his bare back as he drew in a deep, gasping breath.

Goku’s smug face appeared above him, offering him a hand up.

“So, you gunna take my advice, or what?”

Vegeta’s glare transformed into a sinister grin as he grasped Goku’s hand, yanking the taller man off balance before arching up to wrap his legs around his neck, flipping him easily.

Bulma’s delighted cheers reached him from the sidelines, and he stood to give her a shy wave. Her smile was radiant and just for him. Maybe…Did he dare hope that the clown was right?

He had only a second to wonder before Goku was back on his feet and they were facing off again.

~ 0 ~

The next morning, Bulma left early for brunch with some girlfriends. It was all the opportunity Vegeta needed to enact his simple plan.

He drove to the drug store and returned an hour later with a bouquet of pink carnations and a card that spelled ‘Be Mine’ with symbols from the Periodic Table.

He was relieved that he had arrived before Bulma. Sweat had soaked the back of his shirt on the drive home, and his heart was racing.

A quick shower helped him calm down enough to at least sign the card. He didn’t think he would ever have the courage to hand it to her himself, so he would leave his gifts where she would find them on the kitchen island.

Now to sign the card. His hands shook, but, somehow, he managed to write the few simple words legibly.

He had just finished writing her name on the envelope when there was a knock on the front door.

Had Bulma forgotten her keys?

Vegeta glanced through the peep hole, but all he could see was a mass of red roses.

He cracked open the door, and the enormous floral arrangement was thrust into his hands.

“Delivery for Bulma Briefs. Sign here, please.”

With shaking hands, he signed the delivery driver’s keypad before depositing the arrangement on the kitchen island. It made his bouquet of carnations look ridiculous in comparison.

A little white card clipped to the side of the vase caught his eye.

He shouldn’t. It wasn’t any of his business. But…

Before he could stop himself, he tugged the card from its tiny envelope, and his heart sank as he read the messy, masculine scrawl.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Have dinner with me? Love, Yamcha.’

Vegeta carefully replaced the card. He hadn’t realized Bulma was seeing anyone, but it was plain as day that he had never stood a chance. Whoever this Yamcha was, he must know what a woman like Bulma deserved far better than Vegeta ever would.

With his stomach in knots, he snatched up his card and carnations, grabbing his keys on the way out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

7 ~ Soaked Panties

Bulma was disappointed when she didn’t see Vegeta’s car in the driveway. Thanks to bottomless mimosas, she was just tipsy enough to ask him out to dinner. She feared she might lose her nerve if he didn’t show soon.

She was headed to the fridge for her half-empty bottle of chardonnay when the enormous floral arrangement on the kitchen island caught her eye.

With a girly squeal, she snatched up the card, ripping the envelope in her excitement. She had secretly hoped Vegeta might…

Her heart sank into her Manolo’s when she saw the familiar signature.

“Fucking Yamcha!”

She had already had to turn him down twice that week, but he was being annoyingly persistent.

Several petals drifted to the floor as she roughly snatched the vase from the island, carrying it with her out to the garage. She threw open the trash bin, and a giant lump lodged itself in her throat.

Lying on top of the pile of plastic trash bags was a bouquet of pink carnations and a red envelope. Her empty hand shook as she retrieved the two items before leaving Yamcha’s roses in their place.

She tucked the slightly wilted flowers under her arm and and turned the envelope over to find her name written in Vegeta’s neat script. With shaking hands and a racing heart, she flipped open the envelope and withdrew the card.

Barely sparing a glance at the front of the card, she let it fall open, eager to read his words.

He hadn’t written much, but what she saw had her choking back happy sobs.

‘Bulma,

I’m no good at this stuff.

All I know is that I’ve never felt this way before.

Dinner?

\- V’

Bulma clutched the card to her chest as her cheeks grew wet with bittersweet tears. Oh, where was Vegeta?

Still clutching the card and carnations, she ran back in to the kitchen. Reaching into her purse, she found her phone and dialed Vegeta’s number. His phone vibrated on the counter behind her.

“Shit. Shit!”

She snatched her keys from their hook and jogged out to her car.

~ 0 ~

Briefs Hall was dark and silent. Bulma’s heels echoed in the deserted hallways as she made her way to the one place she hoped she might find Vegeta.

When she saw the light streaming from beneath his office door, she could have cried with relief.

She knocked gently. There was a rough clearing of his throat from the other side of the door before he told her to come in.

Vegeta didn’t immediately look up when she entered, closing the door behind her. He was hunched over his desk, staring intently at a stack of lab notes.

“What do you want, woman? I’m working.”

Bulma cracked a small smile, finding his gruff veneer as endearing as she always did.

“Vegeta.”

Something in her tone struck him, and he looked up from his paperwork. His eyes widened as he saw her clutching the wilted flowers and the card, her eyes red from crying.

“You weren’t supposed to see those,” he said, his cheeks darkening.

“I kinda figured that, since they were in the trash can.”

Vegeta sighed, scrubbing a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. He looked worn out and defeated.

Bulma took a step closer.

“Well, I’m keeping them, anyway,” she announced with a look that dared him to argue. “How did you know I liked pink flowers?”

Vegeta shrugged.

“You wear pink when you’re in a good mood.”

Bulma’s smile grew as she leaned down to deposit her gifts on the corner of the desk.

“You pay attention to me,” she said, moving around the desk to stand in front of him. “It’s one of the things I love most about you. You really see me.”

Vegeta’s breath hitched as he looked up at her, silhouetted in the soft light from his lamp. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“Come here.” She reached down and wrapped her tiny hands around his large ones, pulling until he stood in front of her. His fingers were trembling.

“But what about…”

“Yamcha?”

Vegeta nodded.

“Yamcha’s my ex-boyfriend,” she explained with a dismissive wave. “He’s been after me to give him another chance, but I could never do that.”

Vegeta took a tentative step closer. A small spark of hope blossomed in his dark eyes.

“Oh? And why is that?”

Bulma drew in a deep, steadying breath. It was now or never.

She closed what little distance remained between them, releasing his hands to rest hers on either side of his waist. His soft moan was music to her ears.

“Because…I’m in love with someone else.”

Bulma watched as realization gradually dawned over his face. His eyes bored into hers, reading the emotions that were brimming there, finding the confirmation he needed.

She saw the moment something shifted inside him, something that took her breath away. Hesitation and doubt were gone from his expression. There was a possessiveness to his gaze now, a certainly.

His fingertips grazed her hips as hers slid up his chest, both caressing and claiming as they went. She nudged his nose with hers, and his eyes drifted closed.

Her fingers closed around his tie, keeping him close as her lips finally, _finally_ , feathered over his.

The answering brush of his mouth was tentative, but firm. Though he was unpracticed, there was an honesty to the way he kissed that Bulma had never experienced. There was no choreographed list of ‘correct’ things to do. Only him mapping the contours of her mouth, exploring the taste of her tongue, discovering what made her sigh.

His hands hadn’t been idle either. They traced the shape of her waist and hips over and over, memorizing her.

At some point, Bulma’s hands had found their way beneath the untucked hem of his shirt. She flattened her palms against his firm stomach, wanting to feel as much of his smooth, heated skin as possible. Her thumb traced the line of hair above his belt buckle, and his skin trembled beneath her fingers.

They broke apart for air, and Vegeta turned his attentions to the sensitive skin of her neck.

“V-Vegeta?”

He hummed against her collarbone.

“Tell me if it’s…too much, and I’ll stop. Okay? I just really want to touch you.”

His lips froze over her skin, and Bulma was afraid she had ruined the moment. She started to withdraw her hands from beneath his shirt, but he covered them with one of his.

“No, it’s okay.” His voice was breathy against her skin. “It…uh, that won’t happen again.”

Bulma relaxed, letting her fingers tease just beneath the waistband of his slacks.

Vegeta groaned. “At least, I hope it won’t.”

His tone was playful, but she sensed a very real undercurrent of nerves that she wanted desperately to allay.

“Even if it did, I wouldn’t care. It just feels so good to finally be close to you like this.”

He sighed her name, straightening to look longingly into her eyes.

“You’ve really wanted this?”

He sounded so amazed, almost disbelieving still. Bulma didn’t know how it was possible for him not to know how sexy he was. It was well past time he found out.

She grabbed the material on either side of her pencil skirt and shimmied it upwards until it was bunched around her hips. Taking his hand in hers, she led it slowly to the triangle of blush-colored lace that covered her center.

Vegeta’s moan was almost obscene as he felt how soaked the material was. At the gentle, exploratory brush of his fingertips, Bulma felt herself grow even wetter, dampening her upper thighs.

She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders for support and buried her face against his neck. He smelled spicy and clean, like the air after it rains. He smelled like home.

“Fuck, Vegeta. Can you feel how much I want you?”

Beyond words, he only grunted in response, searching for her lips again.

His hands were everywhere now, his hesitancy gone. They slid over her bare thighs and around to knead the globes of her bottom. One slid up the side of her waist to cup her through her silk blouse. Her nipple grew instantly hard against his palm, aching for his touch, along with the rest of her.

“Vegeta, please. I…”

He held her against him with one arm and swept the stack of lab notes from his desk with the other, sending them floating to the floor. Bulma whimpered as he effortlessly lifted her onto the cleared surface, kissing her with bruising ferocity.

She bunched her skirt higher so she could open her thighs wider for him. If he wasn’t inside her in the next two minutes, she was certain she was going to combust.

“Touch me,” she plead between hungry kisses, reaching down to pull her soaked panties to the side.

Vegeta looked down between them with a whispered curse. His hands slid up her thighs, fingers trembling against her skin as he traced her outer lips with his thumbs.

“So fucking beautiful,” he rasped into the charged air between them, and Bulma felt herself grow wetter at the sound of his voice.

“I’m all yours.” She smiled up at him, and, taking his hand, she guided his long fingers towards her entrance.

 

To be continued…

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry, about the cliffy last time. Now without further ado, let’s see if Bulma can teach our clueless professor about a different kind of chemistry. 😏
> 
> Last time...
> 
> ‘“Touch me,” she plead between hungry kisses, reaching down to pull her soaked panties to the side. 
> 
> Vegeta looked down between them with a whispered curse. His hands slid up her thighs, fingers trembling against her skin as he traced her outer lips with his thumbs. 
> 
> “So fucking beautiful,” he rasped into the charged air between them, and Bulma felt herself grow wetter at the sound of his voice.
> 
> “I’m all yours.” She smiled up at him, and, taking his hand, she guided his long fingers towards her entrance...’

8 ~ Weak in the Knees

It took all her self-control to let him explore at his own pace.

His fingertips parted her with the upmost gentleness, like she was delicate as the flowers he had bought for her. She threw her head back, lips parted on a sigh, as his pointer finger sank inside to the knuckle.

He eased back before sinking in again, going a little deeper each time. His dark eyes catalogued her every response from behind smudged lenses. Always the scientist.

“Use two fingers,” she encouraged breathlessly.

Vegeta was quick to obey, and she cried out at the delicious fullness.

“I’ve never...” he stuttered, “I haven’t done this before, so…”

Bulma cupped his face with both hands, looking deep into his hooded eyes. She didn’t want to embarrass him by saying she already knew. Instead, she kissed him again.

“We can take things slower, if you want,” she offered, no matter how much it would kill her to stop now.

“No,” he shook his head. “That’s not…uh, that isn’t…”

Bulma smiled up at him and stroked his reddened cheeks with her thumbs.

“In that case, I’m on the pill and I’m clean, as of my last checkup, if you wanna…”

He nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, I…I want to, um — Yes.”

He was so adorably awkward, yet eager, that Bulma couldn’t help but kiss him, smiling against his lips.

“Then, fuck me already, big guy.”

With a hungry moan, he caressed her inner walls one last time before withdrawing, leaving a wet streak across her inner thigh.

Bulma made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, but before she could remove his tie, a firm hand in the center of her chest pushed her back until she was lying on the desk.

“Shit,” she breathed, beyond aroused by his forcefulness as he grasped her thighs and yanked her to the edge. She had to hand it to the guy; he was good at taking instructions.

One of his hands fumbled with the buttons of her blouse while the other flipped open his belt buckle. She sighed as she heard it clatter to the floor.

Her buttons were less cooperative. Vegeta tugged a little too hard in his haste, and several popped off, skittering across the desk. He froze, his eyes widening in dismay.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bulma begged, fisting his tie to keep him from moving away. “That was so fucking hot.”

Vegeta groaned as his shaking hands found her exposed bra. He trailed open-mouthed kisses over the skin above it, and red marks blossomed where he sucked a bit too enthusiastically.

One of his hands disappeared beneath the edge of the desk, fumbling with his boxers. A moment later, she felt him nudge against her entrance, hot, hard, and much thicker than his fingers.

Bulma lifted her head to see him bent over her, forehead creased and lips parted, nervous, but hungry for her as he positioned himself with shaking fingers.

Her hands slipped beneath the open fabric of his shirt, tracing the firm musculature of his chest, down his belly, along his hip bones…

Vegeta snatched her wandering hands, pinning them above her head as he sank in to the hilt.

Their combined gasps echoed in the deserted building.

Vegeta’s damp forehead was pressed against the side of her neck, and his panting breaths warmed her skin. His hips were flush with hers, fitting against her like a long-lost puzzle piece. And she was so _full_. He was hard and hot inside her, and she couldn’t stop herself from squirming up against him.

A trembling hand pressed down on her hip, holding her still. When he spoke, his voice was rough, strained.

“Just…I just need a second.”

She nodded, happy to be patient as long as he didn’t go anywhere. Her hands were still pinned by one of his, and the strength she felt behind his gentle grip was beyond arousing. She curled her fingers around his as best she could, soothing and encouraging him as she waited for him to find the control to continue.

After what felt like eternity, but could only have been a few seconds, Vegeta lifted his head. His pupils were blown wide as he looked down at her, and Bulma arched her neck to reach his lips.

Their combined sighs mingled as he withdrew slowly before pushing back in. Then again. And again.

“Bulma… _fuck_.”

He released her hands, and they immediately found his broad shoulders, feeling the tension coiling there as he fought for control.

She whimpered. “ _God_ , you feel so good, Vegeta.”

He groaned, pressing his face against her collarbone as he froze above her.

Bulma could have wept with frustration.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Feels too good,” he rasped against her. “I’m too close.”

“It’s okay,” she groaned, threading her fingers comfortingly into his hair. “We have all the time in the world. I just really want to feel you come inside me.”

She felt his resolve break as the tension bled from his body and a fierce growl vibrated deep in his chest.

He stood fully upright, holding her hips in a bruising grip as he watched himself withdraw then sink quickly back in.

“Shit.” Bulma arched off the desk as he pulled back again, moving against her faster with each thrust. “That’s it, baby. Fuck me.”

With one hand, she gripped the edge of the desk, anchoring herself, while her other hand snaked down to find her clit.

What little finesse he had slipped quickly away, and Bulma watched, entranced and beyond aroused, as he tumbled over the edge.

“Bulma,” he moaned, his eyes slipping closed, and she felt the warm gush of his come as he filled her to the brim.

Her thighs were trembling, but she wrapped them securely around his waist.

“Please don’t go anywhere. I’m…so…close…”

She would probably be embarrassed about this later, she thought as she touched herself desperately. But for now, all she could focus on was Vegeta hovering over her, still inside her. His thumbs stroking the insides of her hipbones. His eyes watching her with rapt attention over the rims of his glasses.

He rocked against her carefully, still mostly hard inside her. The added friction and the breathless words of encouragement and adoration he whispered into the charged air between them sent her careening over the edge.

Vegeta collapsed over her and kissed her fiercely, swallowing her cries as she rode out wave after wave of pure bliss.

Once she had come back to herself, they pulled apart just enough to get a good look at each other. Bulma couldn’t help the happy giggle that bubbled up at the sight of Vegeta hunched over her, looking thoroughly ravished and pleased with himself.

His glasses were tilted precariously to the side and had slipped to the end of his nose. Which was good because the lenses were so fogged up, he wouldn’t be able to see through them anyway. She pushed them back into place before using her thumbs like windshield wipers.

“Guess you should take these off next time.”

Vegeta chuckled, grinning down at her. He looked happier and more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. And, somehow, even more handsome.

Strong arms wound around her, helping her sit up. Vegeta blushed as he pulled out and tucked himself back into his boxer briefs, but Bulma didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened at seeing the evidence he’d left on her body. It was just another glimpse of a dominant, possessive side to him that she eagerly anticipated seeing more of. Hopefully later that night, in a bed, this time.

They righted their clothes as best they could. Bulma’s blouse was missing several buttons, so she tied it in a knot below her bust and hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone they knew on the way out.

As she stepped close to adjust Vegeta’s tie, he wrapped her up in his arms, leaning in for a lingering kiss. Bulma’s already shaky knees grew weaker as he poured all the feelings he didn’t have words for into that kiss, leaving her breathless and amazed. Her world had just shifted on its axis, and she knew nothing would ever be the same.

“So,” she asked when they finally drew apart, “is your invitation to dinner still valid, even though you threw it in the trash?”

Vegeta chuckled. “I suppose.”

“Let’s go home and change first. Then you can take me out on our first official date, Valentine.”

Vegeta stooped to pick up the flowers and card that had ended up on the floor, handing them to her with a soft smile.

“I’ve always thought this holiday was absurd, but I think I’m starting to see the appeal.”

Bulma winked at him. “Every day can be Valentine’s Day if you play your cards right.”

“Vulgar woman,” Vegeta mumbled as he followed her out into the dark hallway. He shook his head, but his eyes were smiling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY finished writing this chapter! I must have rewritten it at least four times obsessing over getting it just right, and I’m still not 100% satisfied, but whatever. Veggie has been officially deflowered. Woop! 🎉🎉🎉 Just the Epilogue to go. Thanks so much for reading and for all the amazing feedback, friends!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I did four hours of research to write five sentences. I know I have some incredible science-savvy readers, so I hope I got everything right! 😬

 

 

9 ~ Sore and Satisfied

Epilogue

 

Vegeta was thinking about dopamine.

Eight carbon atoms, eleven hydrogen, one nitrogen, two oxygen. A simple chemical compound made of simple components: the basic building blocks of life.

It’s just chemistry, really. A reaction as old as time itself, set off by lust, which sparked a more lasting attraction. Chemical compounds zooming around the brain telling it to feel euphoria, longing, anxiety. This complex set of emotions called ‘love.’

Bulma presented the right set of stimuli, in one beautiful, ingenious package, to light his brain up like the Fourth of July. And by some kind quirk of nature, he now knows he does the same for her.

Vegeta hates cliches, so he’d never say it out loud. But he and Bulma have some truly incredible chemistry.

~ 0 ~

She wore a pink dress to dinner. He had chosen the custom suit Bulma had insisted he buy.

The way her eyes lit up when she saw him made it worth letting another man touch him to take the measurements.

Vegeta barely tasted his sushi. In fact, his normally voracious appetite was notably absent. Aftereffect of adrenaline, he supposed.

All he could focus on was the gorgeous woman across the table from him. _His_ woman, by her own admission.

Bulma’s parents had called while they were driving to the restaurant, and she had informed them, without hesitation, that she was on her way to dinner with her boyfriend.

So that was that. She had claimed him like the parking space that had started it all and marked him with a sign: ‘Reserved for Bulma Briefs.” He would wear it with pride.

His woman seemed to be enjoying her meal. Everything from her strange technique with chop sticks to the way her pink lips wrapped around each bite made him fall a little deeper.

When her bare toes snaked underneath his pants leg, he realized his cheeks were beginning to cramp, the long disused muscles protesting the abuse. Still, he couldn’t stop grinning. Fucking dopamine.

Vegeta paid the check when they were done, and his high finally started to ebb as nerves took over.

What would happen when they got back to the house? He knew what he wanted to happen. He wanted to make love to her again, in a bed. His or hers didn’t matter. But he wanted her naked this time, writhing in the sheets as he explored every square inch of that soft porcelain skin.

He just didn’t know how to go about it. Did he ask her outright? He had no idea how many times a day a woman would want to do it, and he didn’t want to pressure her. Was he expected to seduce her, somehow? That felt even further out of his wheelhouse, but he could try. She was worth any amount of embarrassment or effort he had to endure to keep her by his side all night.

As soon as the car door slammed behind him, he realized how unnecessary his worrying was. Bulma leaned as far over the console as her seatbelt would allow, attacking his neck with her mouth while her fingers caressed the back of his scalp. He almost melted.

“Woman, if you keep that up, we aren’t going to make it home.”

Bulma giggled.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Her other hand landed on his thigh and slid upward, palming his growing length through his pants. “I’m all wet for you again.”

The tires squealed as he peeled out of the parking lot.

Vegeta couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Bulma had in mind when she picked a restaurant close to home. Her teasing didn’t let up for a moment, and as much as he ached to touch her in return, he forced both hands to remain on the steering wheel, for their safety and the rest of the city’s.

At last, they made it back to the house. Vegeta jogged around the car to open the door for Bulma. He had to fumble blindly to close it again because her lips were immediately on his, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“Come on, big guy,” she purred against his mouth as her fingers laced with his.

He was more than willing to follow as she led him through the dark house and up the stairs. When they stepped into her bedroom, lit only by the slanting light of sunset, the mood shifted.

Bulma looked shy for the first time since he’d known her, standing beside her unmade bed with his hand still clasped in hers. In many ways, this felt like their first time. More premeditated; more official. The end of their first chapter and the start of something new.

Vegeta cupped her blushing face between his palms and kissed her, hoping she could feel every emotion rioting inside him in a way he didn’t trust himself to verbalize.

They undressed each other piece by piece, the only sounds filling the silence the whisper of fabric drifting to the carpet and the occasional sigh as fingertips discovered bare skin.

When the final scrap of lace pooled around her feet, Vegeta was rendered mute with awe. She was even more perfect than he had imagined, down to the occasional scar marking her creamy skin. His hardworking little genius.

“Let’s not forget these,” she whispered as her fingers carefully removed his glasses, placing them on the bedside table.

Her shape blurred softly around the edges, and he stepped closer to see better. His hands found the soft curve of her hips where they lingered as he drew her in for a slow, probing kiss.

What started as a smoldering ember soon sparked and caught fire. They tumbled onto the bed gracelessly, legs tangling as hands grasped and explored.

To Vegeta, this all felt like a lucid dream, his body functioning on auto-pilot while his mind reeled. He didn’t believe in things like fate or destined soul-mates. If there was such a thing as luck, his was light years away from being this good.

But as a scientist, the mounting evidence was too great to ignore. Bulma Briefs was his fate, his destiny — his luck finally turning around. He would do everything in his power to make sure he was worthy of her.

Her soft little hand reached between them to position him at her entrance as her thighs slid along his sides. Their eyes met as they hovered there in the space between anticipation and completion, and he was surprised to see hers shining with a hint of moisture. But her smile was radiant.

She stroked his jaw with her thumbs as she cradled his face with a gentleness that stole his breath.

“I love you so much, Vegeta,” she sighed, and his heart constricted and sped up at the same time.

He should say it back. She deserved to hear it, and it would probably be the most true thing to ever come out of his mouth, yet somehow a massive understatement. He had always been a man of action, more than words.

“Marry me.”

Her eyes grew wide. “W-what?”

He reverently stroked her hair back from her forehead, letting the pad of his thumb linger on her smooth cheek.

His resolve had formed in an instant, but he knew he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything. Vegeta had never seen himself getting married or having children, had never really thought to want those things before. Meeting Bulma had changed the vision of the quiet, cloistered future he had seen for himself into one filled with togetherness and family and overwhelming love.

“Marry me,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

Her smile returned, impossibly brighter.

“Okay.”

Her excited giggle turned into a gasp as he finally pushed inside her.

She felt better than anything he had ever experienced, and he found himself having to recall the smell of Goku’s sweat when they sparred to keep this from ending too quickly. He was focusing so hard on anything that wasn’t Bulma that he almost missed her next words.

“You know, I won’t hold you to it if you regret it in the morning.”

Vegeta scoffed. “Don’t hold your breath, woman.”

All conversation ground to a halt as he pulled back and snapped his hips against hers, earning the sweetest little cries that would always be just for him.

Hours later, they lay tangled together, sore and satisfied, as the first rays of sunlight filtered in through the bay windows.

“We should have done this on Friday night.”

Her voice was muffled against his chest, his cheek pressed against her tangled hair.

Vegeta couldn’t help but agree. He didn’t know how he was going to go about his day as if everything was normal when she’d spent the night turning his entire world inside out.

There was one thing he was particularly eager to accomplish, though. He finally had an excellent use for all the rent money she wouldn’t let him give her.

~ 0 ~

Vegeta hadn’t said anything else about his hasty proposal after that first night.

It had been a week, and Bulma was beginning to feel discouraged. But she had said she wouldn’t hold him to it, hadn’t she? It had been his first night with a woman in his thirty-odd years of life. Of course he had been experiencing new emotions he hadn’t known how to deal with. She had no right to feel disappointed, not when everything else was going so well.

He had moved into her room after that first night, and they’d spent every night together since. They’d talked and kissed and made love, and he had finally opened up to her about his past. She loved him more than she had ever thought possible.

As she went through the motions of her nightly regimen, she smiled at the knowledge that he was waiting for her in what was now their bed, glasses hanging low on his angular nose as he scowled down at a science journal, her side of the bed turned down and ready for her.

She flipped off the bathroom light before heading to the bedroom where everything was exactly as she had expected, with one notable exception.

A little tiffany blue box was nestled on top of her pillow, waiting for her.

Could it be…?

“What’s this?” she asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the shaking in her voice as she turned the little box over in her fingers.

Vegeta’s lips quirked to the side a little, but he didn’t look up from his reading.

“It’s for you,” he said simply.

With trembling fingers, Bulma lifted the lid.

The grounds of her family’s mansion were expansive, but she was sure the neighbors still heard her ecstatic scream.

He hadn’t forgotten, after all. The sparkling evidence was winking up at her from the jewelry box, all three carats of it.

Her fiancé was somehow smiling and cringing simultaneously as she launched herself into his lap, planing kisses on every one of his handsome features.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! It’s perfect,” she enthused between kisses.

“Good,” Vegeta said simply, reaching to take the box from her.

Bulma’s eyes clouded over with tears as he reverently slipped the ring onto the correct finger, humming his approval when he saw that it fit her perfectly.

She smiled against his lips as they kissed, feeling his arms come around her waist to pull her closer.

“I love you,” she whispered, reaching up to remove his glasses.

“As I do you,” he replied.

 

_Fin_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s a wrap, folks. Thank you all so much for reading and for all the kudos and comments! I’m going to miss nerdy virgin Veggie. He was fun to write. 🥰

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr (1VulgarWoman).


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